Why Apprentices and Feasts Do Not Mix
by SeekerMaxia
Summary: Halt does not like feasts. There is too much noise; too much dancing; people eat too much; and apprentices drink too much.
1. Feast Night

**Ranger's Apprentice belongs to John Flanagan.**

**Story rated T for drunkeness - so if you don't like reading about drunken antics that may induce amusing OOC-ness, then this isn't the story for you.  
**

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Halt hated feasts. They were noisy affairs where people ate too much, drank too much, danced too much and talked too much. While Baron Arald had invited Halt to every feast he hosted, Halt had in fact attended very few. He decided to make an exception tonight for two reasons; the first being to shut Will up. Halt had always found some excuse not to go, and Will had been practically pleading with him for months to attend just one feast. Despite all this effort on Will's part, once they arrived at the feast, the apprentice had abandoned his mentor and disappeared into the crowd to find his former ward-mates – barring Horace who was at Castle Araluen. Halt however saw his apprentice's action as a positive thing due to his second reason for attending the feast: Lady Pauline.

According to Halt, she was the only enjoyable thing about this feast – not that he would mention this to anyone. Throughout the evening, Halt had had the pleasure of her company, engaged in interesting conversation, and finally walking her to her suite of rooms, when she decided to retire for the night. The evening had sped by whilst Halt was with Pauline, but now, time seemed to slow right down, as Halt sat in a corner in the Great Hall, scowling at the world in general.

At the other end of the hall, and still not far away enough for Halt's liking, was a minstrel, playing the last song of his set. It was a popular upbeat tune, which incited the feast-goers in singing along. Even from his position, Halt could hear Will's voice above everyone else's. His eyes searched the room, locating his apprentice, and found that Will was standing next to Rodney the Battle-master, who was also singing with gusto. From where Halt was sitting, it looked (and sounded) like the two were trying to outdo each other. When the song ended, they both gave a cheer, and Rodney gave Will a hearty pat on the back, causing Will to stumble forward a couple of paces.

Halt watched his apprentice bid farewell to the Battle-master, before disappearing back into the crowd. He decided that he was now thoroughly fed up of this feast, and was time for him to return to the cabin. He had an appointment with his warm, comfortable, and most importantly, quiet bed. Just as he was about to leave his corner to find Will, the apprentice in question emerged from the crowd, looking pink cheeked, wild-haired, and more cheerful than usual – if that was entirely possible.

Will stumbled past Halt, before turning around and looking at Halt in mock surprise.

"I nearly didn't see you, Halt!" exclaimed Will. "You should be careful wearing that cloak indoors – someone might walk into you… or sit on you. That would be a nasty surprise for them!"

Halt merely raised an eyebrow as Will giggled at his own joke.

"Time to go home, Will."

"I don't want to go home. I'm having too much fun here," whined Will. "You're so boring and … and old."

"You've got training in the morning. And you're drunk."

"No I'm not."

"You can't even stand up straight."

It was true. Even as Will was talking to Halt, he was listing to one side. Right on cue, Will stumbled a few paces, before regaining what little balance he had.

"Did you feel that? The floor moved," said Will, staring at the floor in amazement.

"No it didn't," said Halt.

"I swear… well if it didn't, I'm going to find some fun people."

"We have to go home, Will," said Halt. "The minstrel has heard that you play the mandola, and he wants you to go fetch it and play it for him tonight."

Will fell for this lie hook, line and sinker. He even didn't notice that Halt had called his beloved instrument by the correct name for once.

"Really, Halt? He said that?"

"Yes. He's quite eager to hear you play."

"We must go at once - can't keep him waiting!" said Will, charging towards the exit, albeit not in a straight line.

Halt followed, only pausing to collect his and Will's bows from under one of the tables, where they had stored them earlier for safe-keeping. Will, in his state had forgotten one of the Ranger's most important tools. The apprentice led the way through the castle, and once he reached the castle's yard, he went straight towards the stables, before Halt pulled him away in the direction of the main gate.

"We need to get the horses!" protested Will.

"No we don't. They'll be bedded down at this time of night, and I don't want to get on the wrong side of the Stable-master if we go in and disturb all of the horses. They'll be fine for one night." While that was true, the main reason Halt left the horses was because Will could hardly walk straight, let alone ride a horse. He was more likely to be spending more time falling off Tug than actually riding him.

"You're right. The stable-master does scare me," replied Will solemnly as the pair was let out of the side gate by one of the night guards.

The Rangers followed the road down to the bridge. Halt led the way, with Will following behind, talking a load of inane nonsense about conversations he has throughout the evening. Halt found that a lot of Will's monologue gravitated towards things that Alyss had done, or said, during the course of the evening. Halt wished that Will would admit his feelings for the girl, and vice versa. It seemed like the lad was totally oblivious.

As they crossed the bridge, Halt noticed that Will had gotten progressively louder, and more flamboyant in his gestures. Throughout his experiences in many taverns, Halt had discovered that there were many types of drunk: soppy drunks, angry drunks, touchy-feely drunks, drunks who thought they knew everything – the list was endless. Halt concluded that Will was a happy drunk – which was an improvement on Gilan, who was a weepy type of drunk.

When the Rangers reached the edge of Wensley village, Halt turned back to Will.

"Will, you need to be quiet now."

"Why?" whined Will, a few decibels louder than necessary.

"We need to go through the village, and people are asleep. They most certainly don't want to be woken up by you."

"Is it alright to whisper?"

"Only if you're quiet."

Will looked extremely happy with this response, launching once again into his monologue. The volume of his voice had indeed reduced, but it wasn't a whisper; it was the exaggerated type of whisper that ends up being the same volume as the speaker's normal tone. Halt noticed that the topic of Will's one sided conversation had now moved on to tales of his childhood spent on the Ward. He was unsure of when, and how, Will had gotten onto that topic, but nonetheless, Will had managed to change the topic whilst stumbling along, seemingly unaware that Halt wasn't listening at all.

"… and then I leapt out of the bushes, covered in –"

Will was cut off as he stumbled into a bucket that someone had left outside of their house. The bucket fell over with a dull thud.

"Shhh!" Will told the bucket, as he picked it back up, and put it a few feet away from its original place. "You've got to be quiet – people are asleep."

He then gave the bucket the "stay" signal that he would normally give to Tug, and then carried on with his monologue.

Halt scowled; not for the first time he wondered why he thought taking on another apprentice was a good idea. He should have learnt from his mistake of taking on Gilan all those years ago.

Not soon enough, they reached the edge of the village, and turned off the main road, onto the track that would take them to the cabin. When they reached the tree line of the forest, Will burst into song. Halt groaned inwardly – it was the same song where Will had tried to out-sing Rodney earlier at the feast.

"Oh, the drunken king of Angledart, could blow out candles with a –" Will whispered the next word, as if he was a naughty child saying a rude word "- fart!" He gave a little giggle before continuing with gusto, "But the world would never know of the courage in his heart, till he slayed the staggering dragon!"

Will caught up with Halt, and flung his arm around his mentor's shoulders. Halt slipped out of Will's embrace, giving the apprentice a glare for good measure.

"Come on, Halt! Join in."

"No thank you. I have a better idea – how about a game?"

"Oh, I like games. My favourite game to play with Gil is 'Who can annoy Halt the most.'"

Halt scowled. "No, I was thinking of the Quiet Game."

Halt could practically see Will's brain working overtime as he tried to recall ever playing such a game. "Never heard of it. How do you play?"

"The person, who stays the quietest the longest, wins."

"That's boring."

"It's very important for your final assessment," lied Halt. "You'll be tested using this game, and if you fail, you can't get your silver oakleaf."

"Really?"

Yes, really – and the game starts now."

"Now?"

"Yes! Now!"

It was a success. To Halt's relief, Will instantly shut up, and he continued to stay quiet for a few more minutes… until a twig snapped loudly off into the trees.

With Ranger instincts overriding his drunken state, Will's right hand went to his shoulder to grab an arrow; but instead of the familiar touch of fletching, all there was, was thin air. Will spun around in a circle, in an attempt to look at his back, before looking down at his empty hands. A look of horror crossed his face.

"Halt… I think I've lost my bow and quiver…"

Halt raised an eyebrow, and indicated to his own shoulder, where he had slung Will's bow and quiver for safekeeping.

"What are you doing with those?" enquired Will. "I need them to shoot that nefarious person who's following us."

"No one is following us – it was just a fox. And even if there were a _nefarious person_, as you so poetically put it, following us, they would have been scared off by your singing long ago."

"That's really hurtful… but are you sure that it's just a fox?"

"Will, as much as it pains me to say this, I've been a Ranger longer than you've been alive. I think I may know what I'm doing by now."

Will considered this statement for a moment, and then nodded in agreement. Halt set off once again; Will, thankfully followed in silence. After a couple of minutes, Halt glanced back to check on his apprentice, only to witness Will trip over a tree root, and fall flat on his face.

Halt let out a quiet snort of amusement. Will lay still for a few seconds, before pushing himself unsteadily into a sitting position.

"That was unexpected," commented Will.

By the light of the moon, Halt saw that Will had managed to sustain what looked like a cut to his face. Halt walked over to Will, and pulled the unsteady apprentice to his feet, and slung one of Will's arms around his shoulders. It wouldn't be good if Will fell over again – he could get a more serious injury – something Halt had witnessed before with drunks.

"Ahh – I love you too, Halt," said Will with a sloppy grin, moving round to give Halt a full-on hug, which the older Ranger stopped by elbowing Will back into place. He started to walk once again, so Will wouldn't try to attempt this sign of affection again.

"Halt?" said Will, after a small period of blessed silence.

"Yes, Will," replied Halt, glancing at his apprentice, who was staring at the clear night's sky, mouth hanging wide open.

"When Jenny first came onto the Ward, she told me that when people die, they become stars, and they look upon the loved ones they left behind. Do you think that's true?"

Halt gave a non-committal grunt in reply. He not only had to carry his own weapons, but also Will's, and effectively Will himself, as the apprentice put all his weight onto Halt. Needless to say, Halt wasn't in the mood for a deep philosophical discussion.

"I think it's true," Will continued, paying no attention to Halt's reply. "I reckon my father is looking down on me right now." He pointed to the sky. "My father is that _really_ big star right there."

Halt looked to where Will was pointing.

"Will… that's the moon."

"Oh," said Will, sounding disappointed. "I thought it looked a bit big."

"Only a bit?"

"Halt… I really do love you, you know? You are like a father to me."

Halt kept quiet. This type of conversation was awkward territory for Halt. He didn't like talking about his emotions, instead adopting a grim persona to the outside world; although those close to him knew much better. While Halt looked upon Will, as if the lad was his own son, he would never admit this. In some respect, he was relieved that the feeling between them was mutual. However, Halt mused that his initial assessment of Will might have been wrong: he was a soppy drunk instead of a happy one.

"You've done a lot for me. You took me on as an apprentice when no one else wanted me. You rescued me from Skandia. You watched out for me, when I was living on the Ward. Do you know who else I love?"

"Who?" grunted Halt.

"Tug. He's the best horse there is - the best Ranger horse ever!"

_I doubt he's better than Abelard,_ thought Halt, as Will rambled on about how amazing Tug was, leaving Halt to wonder whether he should feel insulted that Will held the same level of affection for a horse, as he did for him. But Halt dismissed this thought since Will was not in his right mind, as shown by the fact he had confused the moon with a star.

To Halt's relief, they turned the corner to the clearing where the cabin was situated.

Halt relinquished his hold on Will, leading the way to the door. Behind him, Will stumbled up the veranda steps, nearly falling over again, had Halt not grabbed him at the last second. It also took longer than necessary for Halt to unlock the door, since Will had decided that Halt made a comfortable leaning post, standing in the way of the moon's light as he did so, making it harder for Halt to locate the keyhole.

Finally, Halt managed to unlock the door, hauling Will inside the cabin after him, and guided the apprentice to a chair at the kitchen table. He then locked the door, leaning their weapons next to it, before turning his attention lighting some candles. Will merely watched as Halt busied himself.

"I feel like I've forgotten something," mused Will, before a look of horror appeared on his face. "Tug! Where is he?"

"In the castle stables, with Abelard, where they are no doubt being spoilt with an endless stream of apples," replied Halt. To his relief, it seemed that Will had forgotten his earlier lie about the mandola.

Once there was sufficient light in the cabin, Halt sat in a chair facing Will, and reached out to tilt Will's head to the light to get a better look at his wound.

"Get off!" exclaimed Will, squirming out of Halt's grip. "What are you doing?"

"Looking at your face – although why anyone in their right mind would want to do that is beyond me."

"You're looking at my face?" said Will slowly. "Why?"

"You fell over."

"Did I?"

"Doesn't your face hurt?"

Will took a few seconds to consider this, before shaking his head. Halt rolled his eyes, before inspecting the wound once again. This time Will didn't resist, instead opting to watch Halt intently. Upon inspection, Halt saw that the wound wasn't a cut, like he had originally thought, but a bad graze that extended over Will's left eyebrow, and down along his cheekbone. He let out a sigh of relief. Will hadn't injured himself bad enough to require stitches; just a cleaning was required. He fetched some clean water and a cloth, while Will had once again decided to tell Halt his entire life story. Halt, once again, did not really listen, and cleaned the wound. Will winced as Halt did this, but still kept in full flow of his story.

When Halt had finished, Will let out a deep yawn, and pushed himself out of the chair.

"I'm going bed," he announced. "Night, Halt."

He stumbled over to his bedroom door. Will ran his hand over the wood of the door, and then repeated the action with increasing urgency.

"Door knob is on the other side," said Halt.

"So it is!" replied Will, who then opened the door successfully, practically falling into the small bedroom, the door swinging shut behind him.

Halt shook his head, and disposed of the dirty water, but not before setting some water to boil for a much deserved coffee. As he was waiting for the water to boil, he noticed that the noises that had previously been coming from Will's room had suddenly stopped. Halt went over to his apprentice's room, and knocked on the door. Hearing no rely, he let himself into the room.

Inside, he found Will sprawled out on the narrow bed; mouth wide open, and snoring softly. The apprentice had managed to remove his cloak, jerkin, belt complete with knives, and his left boot, before falling asleep. He was in such a deep sleep; Halt doubted that even the end of the world would wake him.

Taking some pity on Will, Halt removed the other boot, placing it on the floor at the end of the bed, where they were normally stored. He then rolled Will onto his side. The lad didn't even stir, but thankfully, the action had stopped the snoring. Halt then went to the kitchen, and returned to the bedroom with a bucket, placing it next to Will's bed, in case of any emergencies that occurred during the night.

Halt took one last look at the graze that now decorated his apprentice's face. That was going to hurt in the morning – and have one hell of a hangover to deal with on top of that.

He did not envy Will one little bit.

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**I hope you found this amusing.  
**

**I've had this little chestnut brewing in my mind for a little while now, and it's finally been written down, so much to my relief, I can now redeem valuable brain space that I need for essay writing.**

**There will be a part two - and as always with me, I have no idea when the update will be. But _hopefully_ it should be soon-ish.  
**


	2. The Morning After The Night Before

**Why Apprentices and Feats Do Not Mix **

**Chapter Two – The Morning After The Night Before**

**Ranger's Apprentice belongs to John Flanagan.**

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The first thing Will was aware of was a banging headache. The second thing he became aware of was that he was lying on his stomach, sprawled out on something soft.

He cracked open his eyes and instantly regretted it. A chick of sunlight was streaming through a gap in the curtains, right into his eyes. Wincing, he pushed his aching body into a sitting position, which caused a sense of nausea to bubble up inside of him, and threatening to escape. Instantly, he curled over, head nearly touching his knees, hoping that he wouldn't vomit.

As the nausea subsided, Will became aware of banging noises coming from the kitchen. Unless he was very much mistaken, Will took this as a sign of Halt being awake and making a start on breakfast.

Cautiously, Will stood up. He still felt nauseous, but it wasn't so bad that he couldn't cope with it.

"Will – breakfast!" came a shout from the kitchen.

Will winced once again. He was sure that Halt wasn't normally this loud.

Stomach churning, Will slouched into the kitchen. He didn't feel that he would be able to eat food today, let alone look at it.

Once in the kitchen, he slumped into his usual spot at the table, where a bowl of unappealing looking porridge sat waiting for him. Halt, was already sat at the table, eating his own bowl of porridge.

"Should I feel flattered that you've decided to grace me with your presence?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Although, I would have appreciated it if you had changed your attire first."

Will looked down and saw that he was wearing the same clothes that he had worn to the feast the previous night.

Something suddenly clicked in Will's brain.

"Halt… how did we get home last night?"

"With great difficulty."

"I'm being serious. I don't remember coming home."

Will rubbed the side of his face, trying to recall the events of the night before, but found himself jerking his hand away from his face as pain flared up in the place where his hand had only just been. He then realised that his face had been sore all this time, but the pain had blended in with the nausea and his banging headache.

Looking at his fingertips, he saw fresh traces of blood. Alarmed, he dashed to his room, stumbling slightly as nausea rose back up again, and looked into his small shaving mirror that was perched on his nightstand.

He looked a mess. His eyes were red and his hair was in disarray, but dominating his face was a rather nasty looking graze; fresh blood welled from where he had aggravated it.

Halt, looking on in grim-faced amusement, stood in the bedroom doorway, still eating his porridge as if he was watching some sort of play.

"My face!" gasped Will.

"I say it's an improvement."

"It might be permanent!"

"A definite improvement then."

"How… how did this happen?" stammered Will.

"You decided that your face and the ground needed to have been better acquainted."

There was a few seconds of silence as Will processed this information.

"I fell over?"

"That's what I said."

"But I don't remember that."

"I do. It's always slightly amusing to see an idiot land on the ground face first."

Will thought desperately, trying to remember the events of the previous night; something he found hard to do in his current state. What seemed like an age later, Will vaguely recalled that his last memory was bidding Alyss goodnight as she disengaged herself from the feast.

"The last thing I remember," said Will slowly, "is saying goodnight to Alyss. Everything else is… blank."

Will swore that Halt's eyes flickered from uncomfortable embarrassment, to relief, then back to vague amusement.

"That's a shame," said Halt, scooping the remains of the porridge from his bowl. "You falling over was the highlight of the night."

Will looked once again in the shaving mirror. The bleeding had stopped, but that didn't make the pain any less, nor the wound less unsightly.

"When you've stopped admiring yourself," came Halt's voice, "you still have breakfast to eat."

Nausea swelled back inside of him, and Will could feel himself go physically green.

"I think I'll pass."

"No you won't," said Halt, coming back into the room and grabbing Will by the scruff of his neck, directing him back to the bowl of porridge sat patiently on the kitchen table, where it sat congealing as it was getting colder and colder.

Halt deposited the apprentice into the chair and looked pointedly at the increasingly unappealing looking porridge, and then back at Will.

"I worked very hard to make that for you."

Will carefully picked up the spoon from where it was lying on the table, and dipped it into the lumpy mixture. With trepidation, he shoved the spoon into his mouth and swallowed quickly, grimacing as he did so.

"There, that wasn't so bad was it?" said Halt in a reasonable tone.

A few seconds later, Will bolted out of his chair, and had just managed to get outside of the cabin before Halt could heard him bringing up the contents of his stomach onto the grass outside.

Halt gave a sigh.

"I didn't think my cooking was _that_ bad," he said, before tucking into the abandoned porridge.

* * *

As Will trudged through the village of Wensley, he mentally cursed feasts, alcohol and Halt. After his unsuccessful attempt at eating breakfast, Halt announced to Will that he was running the errand of collecting the horses from the Castle stables, where they were no doubt being spoilt with apples… or so Halt said.

So, after changing his clothes, and donning his cloak with the cowl up to hide his face, Will was left with this job when he would rather be curled up back in bed feeling sorry for himself. Needless to say that he was now in a foul mood that seemed to be radiating out from him as the villagers seemed to be going out of their way to avoid him more than usual.

Once at the castle, the guards at the gate let him through immediately, recognising the short figure in the mottled cloak, with the bronze oak-leaf hanging from his neck. Will made a beeline to the stables, striding along with the illusion of someone who was too busy to stop for idle chat. Some servants even jumped out of his way as they found themselves in his path.

At the doors of the stable, a boy no older than thirteen scurried forward to greet Will.

"What can I do for you, Ranger?" he asked politely, eager to please the ill-tempered apprentice.

"I've come to pick up the horses. They stayed here over night."

"Yes Ranger. I'll go get them for you."

"Be quick about it!"

The boy hurried off, not wanting to be on the receiving end of Will's temper.

Once the boy had gone, Will turned around and put his back against the stable wall, and slid down until he was sitting, his knees gathered to his chest. He took a deep breath, feeling better.

He heard light footsteps, and then a shadow fell across him.

"Will?"

Will's head shot up, making his cowl slip off from his head. He then scrambled to a standing position desperately fighting down the wave of nausea as he smiled at Alyss, looking as beautiful as ever in her simple courier's uniform.

"What happened to your face? Are you alright?" she asked, concern evident on her normally diplomatic face. Will took this as a sign that she was really worried about him.

"Oh it's nothing really," he replied lightly as he pulled the cowl back up onto his head; face in shadow once more.

"Will, what happened?" she said bluntly. Will knew that she wasn't going to accept that as an answer.

"Myself and Halt decided to walk back to the cabin last night. On our way back, we came across a bandit who thought he would try his luck with us – it was too dark for him to see us clearly, so I don't think he realised that we were Rangers. Anyway, there was a fight and well… this happened," he finished vaguely, gesturing in the direction of his face. He didn't want to lie to Alyss, but then again, he didn't want her to know that he had fallen over his own feet in a drunken state.

"But it looks really bad."

"Oh, it looks worse than it actually is."

"What about the bandit? I don't recall there being a new prisoner in the dungeon."

"We dealt with him."

"Oh," replied Alyss.

She knew better than to ask any further questions, and Will had a funny feeling that she didn't believe him, but had let him carry on with his story to help him keep his dignity.

"I have to go, Will," she said giving him an apologetic smile. "I have a meeting to go too. I really enjoyed last night, and I hope Halt lets you come to the next feast."

"I'm sure I can convince him to let me go," replied Will, promising himself that he will not be touching alcohol at a feast ever again.

"I'll hold you to that," she said over her shoulder as she hurried off to her meeting.

Will watched her go, his smile still lingering on his lips. The sound of hooves caused him to turn around, where he was greeted with the sight of Tug and Abelard being led by the young stable lad.

_Can we stay here more often? _asked Tug looking rather smug. _They feed us plenty of apples here._

Will raised an eyebrow at the shaggy pony, and then regretted this as it caused pain to flare up in his face.

_What happened to you? I should never let you out of my sigh. Every time I do you always get yourself into mischief!_

Will scowled at Tug, as he accepted the reins from the stable boy, who patiently held on to Abelard as Will moved round to mount Tug. He slipped his foot into the stirrup, and tried to boost himself up, only having to stop himself as he felt as though he would be sick again. He tried to give it another go, but ended up with the same result.

Tug snorted in amusement at his master, but this didn't stop Will from hearing the boy's snicker of amusement.

"Come here," Will commanded, with the boy promptly obeying the order, the corners of his mouth still pulled upwards. "I need you to help me mount."

If the boy wasn't there, Will would have given up and walked home. But because the boy was there and had laughed at him, Will felt that he had to see this through. With practised ease, the boy grabbed onto Will's leg, and boosted him up so he was able to sit astride Tug. Although it wasn't the most dignified of mounting, Will was just happy that he was in the saddle, albeit feeling worse than before.

Looking down, Will could see that the boy had a fully formed grin on his face, and could tell that the boy was itching to tell anyone who would listen that he had to help a Ranger onto his horse – and a small horse at that. His dignity and the Ranger Corps' dignity was at stake.

Will beckoned the boy to come closer, and he leaned down so no one else would heard their little conversation.

"If you tell anyone about that, I swear to Gorlog that I will find you and lock you in a tree for a decade. Trust me, I will find out if you tell a single soul. Do you understand?"

The smile had instantly dropped from the boy's face. He had fallen for the threat hook, line and sinker. Will would never normally threaten a young lad like this, but then again, Will wasn't feeling his best at that moment in time.

With a nod of thanks, he accepted Abelard's reins from the now terrified boy, and started to make his way back to the cabin.

* * *

Will climbed the steps of the cabin. He had unsaddled the horses, brushed them down, given them an apple each, and they were now grazing in the clearing. On the journey back, Will had to dismount Tug once they were outside of Wensley village since the motion of riding on the shaggy horse made him want to vomit again. Luckily, Will did not have to see the remaining contents of his stomach – something he was most thankful for. However, the sick feeling had not subsided.

The door creaked as he entered the cabin, and he instantly aware of the smell of cooked bacon.

"I've always found it amazing that the only time apprentices are never late is when there is food involved."

Will gave Halt a weak smile as he sat down at the table. He looked down at the plate in front of him and surprised that he did not feel sick at the sight of the bacon and fried bread. Suddenly feeling hungry, he wolfed down the meal, and sat back in contentment once he had finished.

It was an instant cure, and Will felt happier for it.

"Feeling better?" asked Halt, still eating his lunch.

Will nodded.

"Since you're finished, you can wash the dishes. Then you need to shoot a hundred arrows, collect more firewood, shoot a hundred more arrows, then clean the cabin, and go back and shoot one hundred more arrows."

Will stifled a groan. Halt never made life easy for him.

"And Will... if you ever touch a single drop of alcohol again – you'll be sleeping on the veranda."

* * *

**So here you go - the second chapter of this fic. Sorry it took so long, life got in the way of things, which is rather annoying.**

**Thank you to those who have reviewed/favourited/followed - I do appreciate it!**

**Anyway, this was meant to be a two chapter fic, but I will be adding on a short (and I mean a really short) epilogue, and then I can get cracking on another fic which I have written part of. So stay tuned for those - with my track record, you can expect to see them within six to nine months time.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**- SeekerMaxia.**


	3. Epilogue

**Ok, don't die of shock! Yes it is me, posting the final part of this story. Your eyes have not deceived you.**

**So, I posted the previous chapter back in February. I suppose that has got to be a record for me for updating, although life did suddenly get busy for me so I had very little free time, then I lost all motivation for writing. Anyway, I'm going to stop with this babbling and let you read this shoddy excuse for a chapter.**

**Ranger's Apprentice belongs to John Flanagan**

**Why Apprentices and Feasts Do Not Mix – Epilogue**

* * *

It was now the height of summer, so Halt and Will had decided to make the most of the long, warm evenings while they lasted. However, Halt's definition of 'making the most' of something was to do some sort of work, which was why he was reading the latest report from Crowley, whilst taking measured sips from his ever-present coffee.

Will had just finished re-fletching a couple of his arrows and replaced them back into his quiver bringing up the total once more to twenty four. He pulled his Saxe from where it resided in its double scabbard hanging from his belt and looked at the weapon with a critical eye. The blade was too dull for Will's liking, and needed oiling as well. Before Halt could catch sight of the imperfect state of the blade, Will grabbed the whetstone from his pack beside him and started to run it along the blade.

He didn't fancy having a lecture from his mentor about weapon maintenance. He had already had two from Halt during his apprenticeship, and according to Halt, that was two too many, and not an experience that Will wanted to repeat again – once was bad enough, but twice was plain awful.

Will soon got into a rhythm, sharpening the blue-tinted blade of his Saxe, letting his mind free to wander.

The first thing his mind wandered to was Alyss. He was going to meet up with her in two days' time – his first day off in quite a while. The last time he had seen her was the morning after the feast, which had been a few weeks ago. Since that morning, Halt had kept Will extremely busy with a combination of training, menial chores and three patrols – two more than Will knew to be necessary. The apprentice had taken this as a sign that this was his punishment for his antics during that feast.

Thinking about that feast and his approaching meeting with Alyss, he was relieved that his battle wound (as he called it) had now healed, and all was left was a very faint pink mark, if you looked closely enough.

Suddenly, an image flooded his sight; an image of a clear starry night, the moon at its fullest, when without warning, the night sky tilted and the ground rushed up to meet him.

* * *

Halt took another sip of his coffee in mild celebration of getting through half of Crowley's report. He considered reading Crowley's reports to be an art form, since the Corps Commandant had a fondness of waffling as well as using the most poetic, flowery language known to mankind. In fact, Halt believed that some of these words were entirely made up and would not be found in any dictionary what-so-ever. Because of this, Halt had to read the reports very carefully in order to pick out the important information. The Ranger had a sneaking suspicion that Crowley only wrote reports in this fashion for Halt just to be annoying. As revenge, Halt would write his own reports as vague as possible, so that they could be interpreted in a number of ways, since he knew that this in turn would annoy the Commandant.

He finished decoding the next sentence and took another sip of his coffee, glancing quickly at Will as he did so. The lad was sharpening his Saxe, gazing at it intently as he did so. He was due to graduate in under a year's time, and would then have his own fief to look after. Not for the first time, Halt was silently amazed by how fast the years had flown by.

Halt settled back down to the report. The quicker he finished, the quicker he could set his mind to more useful tasks, such as ordering Will to make another cup of coffee.

He had just finished deciphering a particular tricky paragraph, and was about to make a summarising note in the margin, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw Will make a sudden jerking movement and dropped something, which sounded heavy by the noise it made.

"Gorlog's teeth!" he heard Will curse under his breath, before the apprentice launched himself out of his chair and into the cabin.

Concerned, Halt glanced about, and seeing no danger, he then directed his gaze at Will's now vacant chair. His eyes flickered downwards to where Will's Saxe now lay abandoned.

On it was fresh blood.

Letting the report flutter down to the floor in a mish-mashed pile, Halt pushed himself out of his own seat and swiftly went into the cabin, images flickering in his mind as to how serious the injury was.

However, once inside the cabin, he came across Will dashing about in the kitchen, making a mess and cursing under his breath. In one hand, he tightly held a scrap of material, which was raised up in the air. He was holding it with such ferocity, that Halt could see that the apprentice's knuckles had turned white, even though they were at opposite ends of the cabin. As Will ducked to look in a cupboard, hand still in the air, Halt noticed that blood was trickling down Will's arm.

"Sit down, Will."

Will quickly pulled his head out of the cupboard, narrowly avoiding bumping his head.

"But Halt, it's fine! I've got it under control."

"Sure about that?"

"Yes… when I manage to locate the medical kit."

"Isn't it in the same place that it's always kept?"

"No!"

"And whose responsibility is it to look after the kit?"

"Mine. I get the point; it's my fault the kit isn't where it should be."

"Sit down, Will."

This time, there was no argument as Will awkwardly pushed himself up to a standing position and deposited himself into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. He slumped onto the table, his face covered by his uninjured hand, while the other was still raised, clutching at the scrap of cloth. Halt marvelled at the stubbornness of his apprentice. Surely he would have sensation of pins and needles by now, but Will still held that hand up in the air, trying to stem the flow of blood.

With a roll of his eyes, Halt strode into the kitchen to find the elusive medical kit. He when straight to the open-doored emergency supplies cupboard, where food and other essentials were kept in case of an urgent mission. Looking into the cupboard, he immediately located the kit. It had been pushed to the side, hidden from its normal place. Halt could see how panic may have caused Will to overlook this, but he wasn't going to let Will get off lightly.

"Will?"

"Yes?" came the muffled response.

"Found the kit."

"Where?" asked Will indignantly.

"Right where it should have been."

Will gave a groan.

"Now let's have a look at your hand."

Placing the kit on the table, Halt sat into the chair next to Will's. He lowered the injured hand so it was placed palm up on the table, and gently removed the bloody cloth. Looking at the wound, Halt audibly sucked his breath in through his teeth. Will's eyes snapped to his hand, full of worry.

"Just as I thought," commented Halt.

"It's bad isn't it? What's going to happen? Will I be able to shoot again? Does this mean I won't have to go anymore chores? Am I going to be able to write?"

"Calm down, it's none of those things. This is the mark of an idiot."

Will scowled at Halt. "Hilarious."

"Yes, I know that I am," said Halt lightly as he started to wash the wound to see exactly what the damage was.

He was able to tell immediately that the injury looked worse than it actually was. That was the problem which hand injuries – even papercuts had a nasty habit of bleeding profusely for such a small wound.

After some perseverance on Halt's part, and gasps of pain on Will's part, Halt was able to see exactly how much damage Will had caused himself. Running from the fleshy base of the thumb over to the other side of the palm, Will was now the proud owner of a long, but thankfully shallow cut.

"What's the most important weapon that a Ranger has?" asked Halt suddenly.

"His mind," replied Will straight away, remembering one of his first lesson as an apprentice.

"And what's the second most important?"

"His hands."

"Why?"

"To be able to use his bow and Saxe. Halt, I know; I should have been more careful when sharpening my Saxe."

"You've never had any problems like this before," commented Halt, still meticulously cleaning the wound to ensure minimal chance of infection.

"Well, apart from a few nicks."

"Those are just minor inconveniences. What was so different about today?"

There was a pause before Will spoke.

"Remember the night with the feast, and I fell over, but I didn't remember?"

"Vividly," said Halt in the tone that he didn't particularly like the way the conversation was heading.

"I remember how I fell over. It just came back to me all of a sudden, and my hand sort of slipped."

"Sort of? It most definitely slipped. Good news for you, it's not serious, and I don't have to stitch you up."

"You're going to use that glue stuff, aren't you?"

Halt raised an eyebrow. "Would you like stitches?"

Will quickly shook his head. Lucas, the Head Healer at the castle, had developed a glue that could be used to help heal minor cuts instead of using stitches. So far it had been a success with the Battleschool apprentices, and he asked Halt if he would like to try it. Admittedly, both Halt and Will were sceptical at first, and were reluctant to use it, but after a mission where they both earned their fair share of cuts, and found the glue type mixture to be incredibly good stuff. But that didn't stop Will feeling like a guinea-pig whenever he needed to use the stuff since Lucas had recently admitted that it was still fairly early in its development.

As Halt deftly glued the edges of skin back together on Will's hand, he heard his apprentice take in a breath – the sure sign of a question.

"Yes?" said Halt, before Will could say anything.

"I don't just remember falling over. I remember the whole evening."

"Oh," said Halt, trying his hardest not to turn red at remembering some of the things that had been said that night.

"Yeah," said Will, his own cheeks turning slightly.

"So you remember how you'd mistaken a fox for a … how did you put it? Oh yes! A _nefarious person_," said Halt, trying to make light of the situation as he lightly bandaged Will's hand.

"Yes."

"And how you'd mistaken the moon for a big star."

"Yes."

"And how you'd thought you'd not only lost your bow and quiver, but also forgotten Tug."

"Yes, Halt. I'm sorry for that," said Will as he watched Halt tie off the end of the bandage before giving his fingers a bit of a wriggle, pleased to see that they all still worked. Satisfied, Will looked back to Halt.

"Halt, thank you."

"Well, I couldn't let you struggle, you would have made a bigger mess than you already have."

Will wasn't talking about Halt helping him to fix his cut, but he knew that Halt understood what he meant, and didn't want to embarrass Halt or himself any further. Although their father-son bond went unspoken, it was still very much there and acknowledged in the little things they done for each other.

Halt pushed himself away from the table.

"How about I make us some coffee while you tidy up the mess you made."

"Yes, Halt."

"And then, you can have the joy of deciphering Crowley's report."

Will groaned, and then stood up to clear away the medical kit. But before starting on this task, he turned to Halt.

"That minstrel never wanted to hear me play the Mandola, did he?"

* * *

**That wasn't as short as I thought it would be - it's too long to actually be called an epilogue, but I'm calling it an epilogue anyway.**

**Once again, thank you to those who have reviewed/favourited/followed the previous chapter, and thank you in advance for this chapter - it is very much appreciated! Heck, thank you just for reading and putting up with me :)**

**So that's another story done and dusted!**


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